One Right Move
by RealmOfPossibility
Summary: Former one-shot, now part of a series focusing on Emma's reactions to her mother in Season 2.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Just a small one-shot because I'm loving the Emma/Snow dynamic this season. Big spoilers for Episode 3 The Lady of the Lake.**

One Right Move

Emma Swan couldn't remember the last time she had felt so small so many times in one day.

So incompetent.

So inept.

Living a life on her own had equipped her for the roughest, loneliest kind of life and she had lived it for so long that she couldn't remember anything else. She'd provided for herself, taken care of herself, defended herself for almost twenty-nine years.

But, ever since she'd become the hero and broken the curse...

Now, it was hard to remember the last time she had done something right.

Telling Cora about Henry had been imbecilic. She'd met the woman at the bottom of a pit. After barely knowing her two minutes, she was sharing details about her only son? She'd been around bad people long enough to know to watch what she said and even how she said it. And around evil people...? Well, the fact that Cora was Regina's mother should have been her first warning.

What had she been thinking?

But, that had been child's play compared to the whole ogre episode, when she'd nearly got herself killed. Mary...Snow...her mother had specifically said ogres hunted by sound. Yet, what had she done? Fired a gun in the middle of the forest! She might as well have set off firecrackers, strung up a welcome banner and fairy lights and served herself up on a platter.

She could still remember the foul stench of its breath blowing her backwards.

Then the ogre had copped an arrow to the eye.

Her mother had had to save her. That alone had stung. Hadn't she been the one who had taken care of Mary Margaret for the whole time they had known each other? But, to see her standing face to face with the ogre and practically roar at it to defend _her daughter. _

It was bewildering.

And the way she had gently admonished Emma had stung even more.

_Next time, listen to me._

Ouch. It had hit her that she felt like a child who had disappointed her mother. And that wasn't even the end of it.

She'd been grossly underestimating everything basically since she'd arrived in the fairytale world (or was it the real world now?) Making stupid mistakes, unhelpful suggestions and ignorant comments. Mulan thought she was an idiot. Aurora stared daggers at her. Though Aurora seemed to stare daggers at everyone. And her mother? Well, she seemed to maintain that gentle tone of patience and sweet look of affection at Emma's every mistake.

_I came here to be with you._

Emma thought it might be the look a mother would give her child. If she'd ever actually seen that look given to herself before.

But, this.

Right now.

This moment.

Emma was confident she was turning the tide.

The overwhelming magnitude of standing in her nursery. The place where she was supposed to have grown up.

All fallen into ruins.

And finally, Emma had seen, in her mother's eyes, what it meant to stand in that room twenty-eight years after leaving it.

Her mother had not expected to return. Hoped, perhaps, but not expected. She had brought her baby into the world and then tucked her inside a wardrobe to send her to the other side of...somewhere.

And the sacrifice blew Emma away. And caused a multitude of feelings to crash on her like an avalanche.

She hadn't been able to not say something in the face of such selfless sacrifice. Of finally understanding that, at the end of all things, she, Emma, had been the first and only thing on her mother's mind.

_Well, get used to it._

Now standing in her mother's arms, Emma squeezed her eyes shut and tightened her arms around Snow White.

Emma was glad of her confession. It was, perhaps, the biggest insight into her soul that she'd ever allowed anyone to see. It was freeing her heart piece by piece.

Finally, this felt like something she'd done right.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Here's an addition. Just because I can :) Spoilers for 2x06.**

Chapter 2

Emma Swan couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction as she made her way down the beanstalk.

Sure, she was hot.

Yeah, she was sweaty.

Man, she was exhausted.

She stopped climbing for a moment to check her pocket for the thousandth time. She placed her hand over it. The compass still sat safely tucked away.

Proof.

She wasn't totally useless here. She had guts and nous and resourcefulness and the compass was evidence of that. She couldn't wait to see the look on everyone's faces when she handed it over. Sure, they'd been impressed when she called Hook's bluff and revealed him as a liar, but that hadn't been so hard, not with her superpower.

This, however.

Finding a magical compass and taking it from a giant-guarded treasure trove... And losing Hook to boot? Not to mention climbing up a towering beanstalk that stretched up to the sky.

She wasn't the type of person to crow about her successes, but...

She'd like to see Mulan do _that._

Plus, she could show her mother she didn't need protecting. She could hold her own in this strange land.

It was win-win.

Emma grabbed another strand of vine and lowered herself another metre. The ground was approaching nearer and nearer. She craned her head over her shoulder and looked down. The ground couldn't be more than fifteen metres away. She couldn't see anyone from her angle, but she knew they must be down there.

They would have had to drag her mother away kicking and screaming.

Emma smiled at that thought. Funny how she could believe something like that could be true.

She lowered herself another metre.

"Woah, wait what are you doing?"

Emma stopped at the voice. It sounded like...

"Just stay back! Emma gave me ten hours."

_Uh, oh_, Emma thought. _She's about to cut it down. Climb faster._ She began grabbing at vines and branches, slithering down the giant plant, feeling it scratch against her clothes and any exposed skin along the way. She ignored the pain and kept sliding, grasping for the barest of handholds. She vaguely heard Aurora's voice sounding slightly panicked.

"You're just going to leave her up there to die?"

_Crap, crap_. Emma slipped on a branch and dropped further. Although she knew it had to come, she wasn't prepared for the moment of impact.

The sword sang as it sliced the beanstalk and sent a ripple up the plant.

It was bone-jarring.

It was jaw-breaking.

It was brain rattling.

Emma felt it move into her feet, through her body and out the top of her head. She was sure she had gone airborne, just for a second. She clutched at some vines frantically. And then, she heard a cry.

"No!"

No mistaking_ that_ voice.

Emma looked over her shoulder again. She was just a few metres off the ground. She could jump before Snow White tore Mulan limb from limb. What she heard next almost made her fall off the beanstalk.

"You do _not_ put my daughter in danger!"

Emma leapt out into space.

"Stop!" she called as she landed with a thud.

_Ouch. _

Emma heard scrambling, followed by a voice.

"Emma. Are you ok?"

Emma felt Snow's hands on her, lifting her to her feet.

"Two earthquakes and a jump from a beanstalk. I think my brain's still rattling around a little." She stood up straight and looked around at everyone.

Mulan looked defensive as she held the sword that would have effectively trapped Emma at the top of the beanstalk. Or caused her to plummet to her death.

"I did what she ordered. Nothing more than that." She looked over at Emma. "Did you get it?"

Emma reached into her pocket, pulled out the compass and brandished it like a prize.

"Yep." Her tone dared anyone to be surprised.

"Where's Hook?" Aurora asked.

Emma didn't want to dwell on him.

"He's detained. Let's go. Get your stuff. We've got ten hours til he follows us."

Snow looked astounded as Mulan and Aurora walked towards where they had left their belongings.

"What? How?"

Emma made to follow them.

"I have a friend looking after him til then."

Snow walked a few paces after Mulan and Aurora, but held onto Emma's arm and stopped them both. She moved closer to Emma and Emma could see the confusion and a touch of bewilderment in her eyes.

"You told her to cut it down?" Her voice was soft and tinged with hurt.

Emma rushed to explain.

"Yes, I couldn't risk..."

Her mother had her by both shoulders now. It had happened enough times since they'd fallen through the portal that the closeness no longer bothered Emma. If she didn't know better, she would almost say she was getting accustomed to it.

Snow White gazed at her, leaving Emma nowhere else to look, but right back at her.

"We go back together. That is the only way. Do you understand?"

And it was at that moment that a rarely-felt feeling came over Emma.

She felt selfish.

She had never considered other people in her plans before. She hadn't allowed anyone in a long time to get close enough to deserve that sort of consideration. It had been yet another way to protect herself. She hadn't told Snow about her agreement with Mulan because she had known Snow would never have agreed.

It must have been a blindside for her when Mulan cut at the beanstalk.

Emma hadn't considered the strength of Snow's reaction. But, really, hadn't Snow been doing that since they'd got here? Standing in the face of danger to protect her? Was it fair of Emma to blithely make decisions that would possibly lead to Snow losing her daughter again? While she, Emma, was making choices based on Henry's safety, wasn't Snow doing the exact same thing?

_Can I let her love me that much?_ Emma thought as she stared at Snow. She couldn't think of any words in that moment. There was one thing though. One thing that was needed. One thing Emma knew she could do that would take her mother's fear away, if only for a few moments.

Emma closed the distance between them and gripped her mother in a tight embrace. She felt her mother's arms around her and breathed out a sigh that could only be described as relief.

"Yeah," she breathed.

She felt Snow pat her once on the back emphatically.

"Good. Now, let's go get that dust from Cora..."

"And go home," Emma finished.

But, not before she closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of being in Snow's arms.

Just for a moment longer.


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

**A/N So, I hope you don't mind, but I've gone backwards a bit. While waiting for inspiration to strike from the latest episode (2x08), episode 2x02 just aired in my country and I thought I might fill the gap between the time Mulan and Aurora found Emma and Snow (end of 2x01) and when Cora emerges from the gloom inside Emma and Snow's prison (end of 2x02). So if you haven't seen any of that, spoilers ahead (except for the parts I've added)! Although, from what I just described, didn't I just spoil you anyway...?**

_Thump. Thump._

Muffled voices called through a fog, thick and murky.

_Thump. Thump._

The impact of a thick, woody object could be felt far below.

_Thump. Thump._

"_Why don't we just kill them?"_

Those were the first words Emma Swan heard as someone's staff once again connected with her side.

_Thump. Thump._

She felt closed in, surrounded on all sides. Something hard on one side, like debris left over from a run-down building, crumbly and sharp. And something soft on the other side. Warm and familiar...

"_It's coming!"_

"_Regina!"_

Her own voice screaming. She never screamed. What made her have such an uncharacteristic reaction?

Emma opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Mary Margaret's face. It was then Emma realised that the something soft on her other side was, in fact, her friend-turned-mother. And her hand gripped Emma's jacket at the collar as if she were clinging to life itself.

_What is she doing here? _Emma wondered. _What are we doing here?_

Where exactly _was_ here?

"One of them's waking up."

And it was at that moment that Emma _really_ woke up.

And she remembered.

The swirling purple/black vortex made by Jefferson's hat. A thin, whip-like hand wrapping around her leg, dragging her into the abyss meant only for the wraith. And then the screaming.

Who wouldn't scream at that?

Emma blinked her eyes and focused on Mary Margaret. Her friend looked peacefully asleep. But, the vice-like grip on her jacket told Emma she was anything but peaceful.

"Hey. Get up!" the voice demanded.

Emma turned her head. Her eyes locked onto a woman in what appeared to be some sort of warrior's costume. Then she saw the sword gleaming in the sunlight and recalled her battle with a dragon, what felt like eons ago.

_Probably not a costume..._

Emma forced herself up onto her hands and stared in curiosity at the woman standing beside the warrior. Her clothes were strange too, but not half as fierce.

"Who are you?" the warrior demanded again. "Why did you send the wraith to us?"

Emma opened her mouth to speak and then promptly shut it again. What was she supposed to say? She didn't know who this warrior or her companion were, she didn't know where she was, though it clearly wasn't the airless void Regina had made it out to be. And she didn't know if Mary...

Emma looked down to see Mary Margaret opening her eyes and squinting in the light. Taking in the situation, she became alert in a hurry and sat up beside Emma. After sizing up the warrior woman and her friend, she turned to Emma.

"Are you ok?" she asked quietly, her eyes wide with concern.

Emma's reaction to such a question was immediate.

_I'm freaking out._

"I'm fine," she said automatically. She swallowed. "You?"

Mary Margaret nodded to indicate she, too, was quite alright.

"Enough with the happy reunion," the warrior woman said belligerently. "Get up!" This time she drew her sword and Emma and Mary Margaret both scrambled to their feet and stepped over the debris from what they'd broken with their fall.

_What do we do? _Emma thought, as the woman continued to hold the sword up, ready to cut them down with a wrong move. Knifepoint she could handle. Maybe even gunpoint.

But swordpoint?

There was no precedent for swordpoint. Nor was there a precedent for the way Mary Margaret held her arm and pulled her back a little, so that Emma stood slightly behind her.

A barrier between Emma and danger.

There was something in Mary Margaret's stance, something in her steady gaze, the way she held her shoulders, that seemed to ease Emma's mind somewhat.

While Emma floundered, Mary Margaret exuded confidence.

And it was at that moment that Emma remembered who Mary Margaret was supposed to be. And it was as if their roles tangibly switched through the air. Emma was the weak link. Emma had no idea where they were. Emma had never had to fight against someone with a sword.

"Who are you?" the woman asked again, taking a step toward them.

Mary Margaret shook her head.

"We will tell you nothing until we have answers of our own," she said defiantly.

The warrior woman sneered and jerked her head toward her companion.

"Get the horses." She remained still, glaring at them for long minutes until the other woman arrived with a pair of horses. She sheathed her sword and disappeared around one side of the horses, rummaging around in some sort of pack.

Mary Margaret looked back at Emma. She smiled briefly, as if to reassure her.

"It's ok. She won't kill us."

Emma raised her eyebrows.

"You sure about that?"

Mary Margaret nodded.

"She wants answers as much as we do. She'll take us somewhere she can keep us contained. Hopefully, it'll be a town or something. Then I might be able to get my bearings."

"Mary Margaret, where are we?" Emma hated how plaintive and small her voice suddenly sounded. She was a grown woman, not a child!

"I'm not sure yet," Mary Margaret replied honestly. "But, I think we're closer to my kingdom than we are to Storybrooke right now." She watched as the warrior approached them, her hands full of ropes. "Just follow my lead. We'll be just fine."

The warrior tied Mary Margaret first, as if she instinctively knew that she was the bigger threat. Emma watched in disbelief as the ropes were knotted and checked over. She should fight, shouldn't she? Wrestle that sword away from the warrior and cut their way to freedom. The thought had barely entered her head when she saw Mary Margaret shake her head slightly.

_No._

As if she had read the look on Emma's face.

So, Emma allowed her own wrists to be bound.

The first jerk forward caught her by surprise and she tripped, sprawling on the ground and landing on her knees. She winced as she felt skin being grazed beneath her clothes.

"Emma!"

Mary Margaret reached forward with her bound hands and grabbed Emma's arm, pulling her to her feet. As she withdrew, she ran her hands along Emma's arm, a touch meant to reassure, give comfort. And Emma, to her surprise, found herself wishing it would last a little longer. That touch seemed to be the most normal thing that had happened in days.

"No more talking!" the warrior snapped from astride the horse and began moving forward at a walk which was slow for her horse, but somewhat uncomfortable for the two prisoners struggling behind.

It was impossible to establish any kind of rhythm. The ropes jerked Emma and Mary Margaret this way and that and if there was a slight obstacle, the horse simply stepped over it while the two prisoners were forced to stumble over and through. It didn't take long for the constant rubbing of the ropes to cause a welt to appear on Emma's wrists and even less time for it to be a constant source of burning.

And, still, they stumbled on.

Emma tried to shut her mind down and walk on autopilot. She was aware of Mary Margaret glancing over at her occasionally and felt almost relieved that the warrior woman had forbidden them to speak to each other. What kind of conversation could they possibly have anyway? Perhaps Mary Margaret would want to 'talk' the way she had tried to back in Storybrooke. When Emma had shut her down with a guilt trip about "which curse was worse."Emma wished they could stop so she could _think_, so she could get her head around all the strange happenings of the past few days, but the constant movement meant she couldn't concentrate on anything other than the next step. This time it was she who unwittingly looked over at Mary Margaret, still walking determinedly, stoically. She didn't have time to look away when Mary Margaret caught her eye and smiled encouragingly.

And, despite her efforts at remaining distant and unaffected, that smile was all it took for Emma to take the next step.

And the next.

Eventually, they emerged from the hilly landscape and were led out into the open and walked along some kind of grim shoreline. The day was grey and chilly and the air was damp. It didn't immediately smell salty so Emma couldn't tell if it was the ocean or a giant lake.

"What is this place?" Emma couldn't resist calling out.

The warrior stared long and hard toward the horizon before answering.

"Our home."

They walked toward a spit of land half covered by a wispy mist. At least the path leading toward their destination was more dirt than debris now. After another mile or so of being dragged along, they arrived in some sort of village. The atmosphere was subdued until the people working there spotted the prisoners and reacted with surprise, even shock. Their meagre possessions and dirty clothes reminded Emma of images she had seen on TV.

"It's like they're refugees," she said to Mary Margaret.

"We're survivors," came a snappy reply from behind her.

Emma was so preoccupied with what she was seeing that she didn't notice the plan Mary Margaret was putting into action until she heard a voice shouting her name.

"Emma! Run!"

Her head whipping around, Emma's response was automatic and she charged off with Mary Margaret. Somehow she passed her and ran ahead.

_If we can just make it to the trees, we have a chance, _Emma thought desperately. She spurred herself on until...

A thump. A groan.

Emma looked back to see Mary Margaret motionless on the ground, her bound hands stretched out in front of her.

Emma was sure her heart stopped beating for a second at the sight.

_No. No. No. No. No._

"Mary Margaret!" she called out hoarsely, running back and dropping to her knees beside the unconscious woman. She turned her over. "Mary Margaret!" As their captors surrounded them, she looked up at them in horror. "What did you do?"

The warrior remained unfazed by her outburst.

"Take them to the pit," she commanded and Emma felt herself being grabbed from behind and dragged away. As she was manhandled along, she tried to stay in view of Mary Margaret, as if to reassure herself that she was ok. It was at that moment that Emma felt the real fear that came from knowing she was alone. If Mary Margaret wasn't ok...

They were led to a door and Emma was pushed inside the pit. A moment later, the guards brought Mary Margaret in and dumped her unceremoniously on the ground. Emma felt a surge of anger and protectiveness. Had they no compassion?

"Be careful! Be careful!" she cried shrilly, in a panic. She sank to her knees again and carefully turned her friend over, quietly urging her to wake up. She gently shook her, her breathing becoming more shallow as her fear heightened. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening...

"Do you need help?"

Emma turned toward the voice, peering into the shadows. What now? After everything, what could possibly happen now?

"Who are you?" she asked nervously, trying to see through the gloom. She waited as a figure slowly emerged.

"A friend," came the response. As they stepped into the light, Emma watched as a woman appeared, a kind of calm smile on her face. Emma didn't move from Mary Margaret's side as she stared at the woman. She waited for her to speak.

"My name's Cora."


End file.
